This story is protected under international and Pan-American copyright conventions. Please remember to donate to Nifty if you're financially able to do so.
MY WEBSITE: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/books.html
My email: kavrik@hotmail.com
Pictures of the characters in this story: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/my-artwork.html
Full story chapters and discussion: http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html
For those of you who can't wait for new chapters, please visit my forum where I post months ahead. The chapters are bigger there than they are on Nifty. To see for yourself please go to
http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html
and find the folder that says "The Orb of Winter" and then open that up to view the chapters. Please note that the chapter order here will differ from my forum because I cut the chapters into smaller chunks for Nifty's audience. Also, if you aren't on my mailing list and want to be, please shoot me an email.
Please check out my books on my website.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kian finished eating, and then washed his head and hands in a snowy creek just outside the village of Kalek-Haru. He also cleaned out the inside of his helmet by washing out blood, vomit, and the sweat that collected in the padding.
"I wonder if I smell bad," he said under his breath, letting the freezing water run over his numb fingers as he submerged his helmet for a rinse. To his nose, he detected nothing. And because he was Atlantean, Kian knew most of the legends.
One of them talked about something in his sweat that inhibited stink. Another legend spoke of the taste, specifically mentioning that there was nothing the palate could detect. This account matched Kian's experience most of the time.
"I'm so weird," he said to himself, looking at the piles of snow in the river. Fish swam lazily over the river rocks, some just a few feet from his boots.
Kian didn't spend much time at the edge of Kalek-Haru. A village of three-hundred peasants (give or take a dozen), it squatted in a huge pit that might have been a mine as recently as ten years ago. He thought he might try and steal a horse, but didn't see any that he thought were worth stealing. There were a couple of draft horses, but they belonged to a farmer that looked like he would have been in a lot of hurt if Kian had stolen even one. So he decided against it.
Taking one more bite of raw fish, he tossed what was left into the river.
I wish I'd remembered some salt, he thought. Maybe I'll get some in town.
His stomach full, he brushed his teeth with some baking soda concoction he stored in a jar he kept in his belt pouch. An apothecary flavored it with mint leaves, and it did wonders to get the taste of the fish and the elven bread off his tongue. When he finished, he put all of his belongings back into the backpack and into his various pouches and resumed his marathon. He'd chosen this place to respite for an hour because it was near the highway, which had clear signs pointing to the Holy City. Kian figured he'd have to run another sixty miles today, but if he kept up the pace he'd be at the gates of Zanda before midnight.
"Tethyr's teeth, my limbs ache," he said, stretching and popping his knees. Then off he ran.
As Kian approached the highway, he switched the cloaking device on with a button inside his helmet. This was a feature of the armor that bent light around him, producing a shimmer in the air that matched the exact outline of his body. It could also create very convincing illusions. Unless someone was looking for him, chances are they'd miss him as he ran past. But just in case, Kian gave travelers on the road a wide berth, sometimes going as far as fifty yards from the highway into the deep brush to get around pilgrims traveling to the big city in their horse and cart.
Kian stopped twice more before the gates of Zanda. Each time he ate some food, stretched, and refilled his three canteens. During the run, he tried to drink every five minutes from one he'd snapped to his belt as he sprinted over hill and under dale.
At about eleven o'clock, Kian arrived at the gates of Zanda, thrown open to the road. The massive walls dwarfed everything for miles. Made of huge blocks of gray stone, they soared upward from the surrounding plain some sixty feet. Every one-hundred twenty feet or so stood a guard tower even higher than the wall, and it only ended when it met the sea. Torches flared all up and down its length, and Kian saw countless soldiers on patrol. The gates themselves rose forty feet above the road and each door had been made of stout planks of ironwood, bound together by thick iron bands now rusted around the massive pins that held each plank in place.
Gruesome reminders to all who approached the Holy City lined the highway on both sides: huge wooden stakes held the impaled remains of victims who had been run-through lengthwise. Just under their feet, parchments fluttered in the wind.
For once I'm glad it's winter, Kian thought, or the smell here would be unbearable.
Even at this hour, hundreds of pilgrims lined the highway waiting to get in while Timeron knights searched everyone at the gate. Kian stole a non-descript gray cloak from a peasant's cart, and then teleported to the tree line just a short ways from the road. He switched his invisibility shield to off and donned it, but the thing just hung off him because his body was so lithe.
"Let's try this," he said, slipping on his haversack and then throwing the cloak over that. The garment fit better and gave him a hunchback. "Nice," he muttered, going over accents in his mind. Acting a part is as important as swinging a blade, Kian thought. I think something obnoxious is in order. He switched the outward appearance of his killsuit to that of a dark-skinned Zandan with a beard, eyepatch, and long pipe. He worried that the image might fail right in front of a guard, and prepared a "plan B" in case that happened.
"But it shouldn't happen," he reminded himself. "Henna fixed your suit." But does anything ever bloody go as planned? Tethyr...are you listening? Of course he's not. Kian sighed at his inner monologue. I'm going to be one of those crazy old men. Just watch. It starts here talking to myself.
He stepped onto the highway from a grove of trees about a mile out from the city, his old wizened face projected perfectly in front of his helmet, and he clomped along the highway in illusory moccasin boots. He took to stooping once he joined a procession of pilgrims. Because of the heels on his killsuit, Kian stood six-foot two inches tall which was about seven inches taller than the average traveler on the road. So he bent over and leaned heavily on a walking stick he'd grabbed from a ditch to help him with his disguise.
"What's your name?" an old man with salt and pepper hair asked him, sidling up with his smelly mule. This guy had bright black eyes, a full beard and mustache, and wrinkled dark skin.
"Gicken Diggle if i' please ya," Kian said without hesitation. Tethyr's teeth, is that too much? He flashed him a grin which (if the illusion was working perfectly) would show he had only one tooth clinging to his gums. "I's righ' monkeys outside, innit?"
The man looked at Kian peculiarly. "Are you from Slaver Bay or further west?"
"You takin' the piss wit' me? O' course I'm ou' wes'. You know your onions. Eva 'ear ov Theog Rise?" Kian asked.
"Can't say that I have," the man said, taking a drink of water. In front of him, a woman adjusted some packs on the rump of a donkey.
"I's dull as dishwater. No' surprised you ain' 'eard ov i'" Kian said, taking a puff from his pipe. Illusory smoke poured forth from his lips. "Some cock up pro'lly got us hung on gettin' through tonight. Any idea whut they're searchin' baskets for cuz I'm proper knackered?"
"The intense searches started a few days ago. Word is, the knights suspect the Dreaded Irtemara is trying to smuggle someone of importance into the city without Skellhaundar Romax knowing about it," the man replied. "They're searching baskets for bendoh stones people use to communicate with one another. If they find one, they're gonna ask questions: who's on the other side? Why aren't they traveling with you? Where is the other party? It's all done under the guise of weeding out spies from getting into Zanda city."
"Manky cun' that one tryin' to snooker...who yew say...Skellhaundar...?"
"Romax," the man said. "You really know nothing, do you?"
Kian shrugged helplessly. "Ya, bu' I los' the plo' as they say. Real cock up lef' me brains addled by a hoof to the skull. Say, 'ow yew kno' so much?"
"My friend's in the Blades Acuuarum, the statewide militia of Zanda under the direct control of the Israfil of Zanda. Skellhaundar Romax is one of two generals of the Timeron knights in the region. He's commander-in-chief of the Keep of Anghul across the bay there. See the twinkling lights?"
Kian looked and nodded, seeing the distant flickering torches across the relatively calm bay. Although he couldn't make out the walls of the keep, he could discern something of its shape in the darkness. "I do."
"Skellhaundar runs the Blood Bowl held each week in the Arena of the Flayed Man. Hasn't been a winner, but gamblers a plenty take odds on certain favorites to achieve tasks on what they call the `dead board' since most people end up dead," the pilgrim said.
"What's the point of i' all?" Kian asked.
"To become a Timeron knight. One of those guys there, searching haversacks. Only the most athletic men can become the best warriors, and there are perks a plenty not to mention knighthood makes you automatically high society," the man replied.
"Ya don' say?"
Kian split off from the man to get searched at the entrance.
The Timeron knight at the door looked at Kian intently through the slits of his helmet. He had green eyes and looked relatively young. "Any bags sir?" the knight asked.
Kian shook his head. "Jus' me walkin' stick," he uttered, smiling. The knight reached out to touch Kian's hunchback but he cried out at the last moment, "oh me back hurts, spare an ol' man some change, lad. I beg the Queen's mercy." Then he fell forward on his knees, hacking and clutching his stick.
The knight dropped next to him and helped him to his feet again. The knight did pull Kian's cloak aside for just an instant to make sure it was just a twisted spine and not some hidden container. But Kian's illusion held and the man quickly apologized and sent him through the gate.
"I's all righ', lad. It'd be the dog's bollocks to be as spry as yew again," Kian said.
"Thank you sir," the knight said, smiling. "Enjoy your stay in Zanda City."
Once down the street a ways, Kian turned left into one of the hundreds of alleys that presented themselves for an opportunity to hide. Although the avenues and boulevards of a huge city like Zanda thrived with traffic all day and night, the alleys had only a few desperate individuals trying to sleep in the cold. Kian threw his stolen cloak down atop one such lost soul with diseased lumps on her face.
"Thank you, stranger," she said, pulling it over her head to sleep.
"Don't mention it," he replied. God I'm exhausted. I just need to push a little further. Trance should do the trick.
He crouched with his back to the wall and pulled out the vial containing his drug of choice. He stopped for a second, noticing that his hands shook. I need fucking sleep, not this, he thought. But then that other voice in his head spoke louder and said, "You can sleep when you're dead." Kian shrugged and thought, how do you argue against that logic?
Carefully, he filled the syringe with a dose of the stuff and then slipped the needle through one of the holes in his vambrace that Bloodbane exploited when he held the Sword of Rogues in hand. A warm tingling sensation spread through his body almost immediately, and he closed his eyes to just enjoy the comfort.
I love it when the pain just goes away, he thought, almost drowning in his bliss.
Kian licked his lips (as he was ought to do on this drug) and stared up at the clouds. He popped his visor for a moment and took a swig of cold water and enjoyed the feel of the liquid sliding down his throat. A few drops pelted his face, cold and big. A downpour was on its way, and he could see the mist a few streets over and hear the thrum of drops on shingles.
"Just splendid," he said. At least it'll clear out the streets.
Kian changed the setting on his heads-up display (on the inside of his helmet) to invisible again. A moment later, he crept out of the alleyway right as the full downpour started, eyes peeled and alert for any sign of either the thieves' guild or the scoundrels that kidnapped Captain Ephram.
As Kian prowled the streets, he kept to the sides of buildings to not attract attention from anyone that might notice a "sheeting" effect of the rain pouring around him (or for that matter, the imprint of his boots in a puddle). When he stopped, he made sure it was under an awning. After about an hour, he found himself approaching the center of the city, and even in his killsuit he was cold and shivering.
Kian rested his armored palm against an ancient edifice built upon the edge of the Well of Zanda, and its glow painted the underside of the turbulent storm clouds a sick pallor of green. Each considerable rock in the foundation of this immense building (which looked to be a training grounds of some kind) stood taller than Kian; its weight unfathomable to him. Some bamboo scaffolding held a couple of buckets and an ornate seal being installed near the edge of a south-facing door. The fortress itself was monolithic; it soared above him with one-hundred foot bulwarks. However, Kian still marveled that it was easily one of the smaller buildings on this side of the Dreaded Irtemara's Holy City.
"Who's there?" an androgynous voice asked from over his shoulder.
"Fuck," Kian swore under his breath, turning his head half expecting to see one of the Blades Acuuarum guards or worse, a Timeron knight. But instead, when he turned he saw a thin girl in a black poncho staring at him. It was dark, so Kian couldn't make out many features other than the girl had the prettiest (and perhaps saddest) copper colored eyes he'd ever seen. In fact, they looked the color of newly minted pennies. She was also quite petite. Kian checked to make sure his invisibility cloak still functioned and was surprised to discover it was.
"I know someone's there," the girl said. "I don't have any money. But I have a friend that can detect your body heat. He tells me there's someone hiding under the scaffolding there. I just want to pass unmolested. If you think I'm weak, think again. I'm a powerful necromancer. You don't want to test my magic. I could age you a hundred years with a touch."
Kian decided to use the quantum sidestep rather than say "Hello" and teleported to the roof of the building, springing his cibrian cleats (which easily punched through the leather boots he wore for warmth) to get better traction. Just a bit to his right, the edge of the fortress dropped almost a thousand feet into the turbulent fluorescent waters of the Well of Zanda. They circulated in a counter-clockwise motion around a blackstone mountain that rose from the very center. The mountain was home to the Librarium Apocalypto, the palace of the Dreaded Irtemara, and the Basilica of Zanda. The fortress itself looked bleak and foreboding, with dozens of towers stretching into the skyline like wicked nails clawing at the soft underbelly of a vast purple cloud.
"What do you mean he's gone?" the girl asked of no one in particular.
Is she talking to herself?
Kian didn't want to get distracted, but he couldn't help but peer over the edge, rainwater rushing by him as he perched on the shingles. As he looked through the glass of his visor, he saw something. A shadowy shape emerged from the inside of the girl's poncho, and it resembled a very small dragon.
What in the nine hells is that? Kian thought to himself, but knew he'd get no answer.
The young girl shrugged and said, "All right. Stop bossing me around. I'll get it." She took a step over to the alley directly beneath where Kian perched and headed for the wall at the dead end. A pile of wood and some old barrels had been stacked there, and once she reached them, the girl started to climb with about as much awkwardness as a three-year old with no athletic ability at all. Kian almost laughed as the sight of high heels, but then grew concerned when she slipped and almost sprained an ankle.
I can't get involved with her, Kian thought. I absolutely can't.
"This is going to get me killed," she said desperately. A moment later the girl said, "I know. I promised. I always keep my promises." Then she managed to get up, but not without tearing open her dress on an exposed nail.
"Fuck this night," the girl uttered, voice tearing at the edges.
Well she may not dress like a sailor but she sure curses like one.
"Does it have to happen at midnight?" the girl asked the dragon. There was a pause where Kian only heard rain. "I hate you, and I've only just met you." But the girl pulled herself atop the highest barrel, soiling her fine lace gloves. Once there, she had to jump to grab the edge of the wall and only barely made it. Digging shoes into the mortar, she finally managed to get a foothold solid enough to hoist herself up onto the top. Breathless and soaked through to the bone, the girl sat very unladylike, with her small feet dangling a thousand feet over the well. Kian watched as the girl took out a spool of string, tied a beaker to one end, and started lowering it into the well. Slowly, the spool unwound.
This is bloody crazy, Kian thought. This can't end well. Kian, this is not your problem. You are a ruthless assassin. People die all the time and you are a cruel heartless bastard and could care less about other people's problems.
He shook his head in disbelief, still listening to the girl's chit chat with the small dragon. But he had other things to consider too that were crucial to his mission. He regarded the entrance to the Librarium Apocalypto with some intrepidness. I need to get inside the citadel, he thought. Two enormously fat colossi made of industrial steel with faces that wept rivers of molten rust gazed with unblinking eyes over a procession that only just now emerged at this hour from the gargantuan basilica. They spilled out from the citadel, pouring forth like a vacating of bowels from the corpse of a titan onto the streets of Zanda city. Torches hissed in the rain as they strode past wailing into the night with merriment at their god's insanity.
Is this a holiday? Kian asked himself. Why did I have to show up on a bloody holiday?
His eyes flicked from the glistening nude bodies of men and women carried on bamboo palanquins and returned once more unto the guardians that flanked the serpent's tongue bridge. The morbidly obese constructs were identical in appearance. Their hair was braided metal cable. Their mouths, chins, and necks flowed seamlessly into rotund chests made round by spherical bellies.
Is Ephram inside the Librarium Apocalypto? Or did I beat Kahket's kidnappers to Zanda? After all, they might have wanted to avoid Skellhaundar's men. Blast at not being able to find the thieves' guild. I need bloody information.
"What lies beyond the colossi?" the girl asked from down below. It was somewhat muffled because of the continuous rattle of rain, but Kian had exceptional hearing. A moment later, she said, "Oh that's neat. How do you know?"
Kian clenched his fist in frustration. What I wouldn't give to hear the other side of that conversation.
He peered over the edge again, saw the girl had almost lowered the vial to the halfway point. Gutters in the shape of gargoyle mouths spilled water from the roofs onto the woodpile. A viscous sludge in the center of the alley served as an open sewer, ferrying refuse downhill toward the less elevated areas of Zanda and the slums that crouched there.
The strange girl shook the rain from her shoulders; she looked like a wet rat with bold eyes and a nervous twitch.
"Got it," the girl said.
Kian looked and sure enough, the vial had made it all the way down into the well. Now, she was rolling the string back up.
Why would anyone need to get water from the Well of Zanda? Kian thought.
He was just about to pop his visor open to rub his tired eyes when the top of the wall gave way, having been weakened with rain and not really built to support a person in the first place. The girl screamed into the wind and toppled over the edge, hurtling toward the ghastly waters of the haunted well far below them.
Kian swore and leapt off the roof.
He drew his sword in mid-air as he plummeted toward the shrieking girl. Bloodbane awoke at Kian's familiar grip. The handle of the sword unraveled veins of pure corobidian and slid them into his wrist. They turned scarlet with the assassin's blood as his heart pumped it into the magical blade.
Bloodbane exulted in the life it consumed from its master.
Shaking off the momentary anemia, he gave the sword a stern shake; it transformed into a composite longbow, and Kian fired an arrow that trailed a cord of corobidian ribbon. In the next instant (while the arrow was still in flight) Kian sidestepped, reappearing beneath the girl and catching her in his arms. The arrow transported with him; on its reappearance, it continued in its trajectory and slammed into the rock cliff that marked the edge of the Well of Zanda. The arrowhead spun clockwise on the rock and cored the granite. Kian wrapped the lanyard around his forearm; it went taught. Sparks flew as the ribbon sliced along his armor, corobidian against corobidian. Their fall broke instantly and they careened into the unyielding face of the cliff. At the last moment before impact, Kian turned his body so that he'd take all of the force of the collision on his back and ribs.
It knocked the air out of his lungs (and left him gasping) but they were both alive. And Kian knew the pain would have been much more intense if he wasn't already high as a kite on Trance.
He held onto the screaming girl and looked down at the swirling green waters of the well. Rain that fell from his boot left a steady trail that dribbled into the liquid; he was worried that something might be attracted to the disturbance on the surface. The girl's poncho fluttered down from above and drifted out onto the water, disappearing beneath the churning waves.
A putrid smell of rotting flesh rose up from below.
"Climb up the lanyard," Kian ordered.
"I-I'm afraid," the girl said.
"I've got you," Kian assured her. "Please, you have to climb. I'll help you."
The girl, shaking, nodded and started scrambling up his body while Kian supported her with his thighs and hand. She wore lace gloves that did little to shield her palms from getting cut open on the lanyard. But adrenaline coupled with the fact that the lanyard was rather rough, allowed the girl to loop it around the leg and slowly move up. Kian watched as a few drops of blood fell; he caught them in his open palm. Despite the cold, he was sweating and looked down to see shadows beneath the glowing green surface.
"Tethyr's Teeth," he muttered.
He glanced around to get his bearings. There was a ledge about six feet up; he directed the girl to it. Then he joined her with a single invocation of the sidestep.
"How did you do that?" she asked him, visibly shaking. Kian made sure to block her in with his body so that she didn't fall again.
"Do what?" Kian pulled out his bag and grabbed a spare shirt. He unsheathed the cibrian wrist knife with a touch to the tongue pad in the helmet. Then he cut the shirt into strips, wiped some medicinal ointment that he carried in a belt pouch onto the strips, and bound the girl's hands where she bled. "There, all better miss. You're a dainty thing, aren't you? Maybe you shouldn't be out here on a night like this."
"I owe you my life," the girl said. "I'm Alexi."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Kian said. "I'm Hunter." Kian gripped Bloodbane, gave the bow a shake, and it transformed into a sword again. He sheathed it in the scabbard and waited a moment for the veins to come loose from his wrist. As they loosened, they coiled themselves about the ornate black handle, shaking off a few drops of his blood that clung to the ends.
Alexi stared at him. "How did you transport like that?"
"It's a gift I earned by getting in good with Tethyr. I've three such gifts—that's one of them."
"What're the other two?"
"You've asked enough questions tonight; don't you think?"
The girl smiled and then hugged Kian. The top of her head came to just under Kian's chin. "Thank you," he heard Alexi whisper.
Having another human being hug him after a year of loneliness pretty much made Kian realized how much he missed this kind of connection. He found himself sniffing her hair through his helmet, and realized she smelt like flowers.
I-I can't do this, Kian thought. I'll get distracted, but Tethyr's teeth is she nice.
Kian stared upward with his excellent vision. Directly underneath the bridge was another, much older bridge with significant portions of it drooping in ruin. The rusted, pitted frame still spanned the gulf of the Well of Zanda, almost eight-hundred feet by Kian's measure, and joined onto a terrace of the citadel a hundred feet down from the arched entrance of the Basilica of Chaos. Kian craned his neck, the arch of the basilica high above was a thing to see.
It must rise a thousand feet from here, he thought.
The façade of the basilica had been lovingly carved by ancient craftsmen from unyielding ebony rock, shaped into skulls of varied size and expression. Some had closed mouths; others had jawbones that hung wide. Some were equipped with glistening obsidian tongues which hung between pointed teeth.
The falling rain made the mouths appear as if drooling.
"How ghastly," he said, grimacing. However, through the mist and rain, Kian could discern the faint outline of a door on the far side of the span. "Wait here," Kian cautioned Alexi, and then he plied himself free of the hug. Then he vanished and reappeared on the ledge where he'd spotted the portal. Kian brushed spider webs out of the way and moved toward a set of bound iron doors. They were inset within a stone frame made of charcoal blocks flecked with bits of silver; they rose up another four feet taller than he stood. His narrow, booted feet made imprints in the dirt that collected at this long unused entry. These doors were sealed with molten lead, the handles wrapped in glowing chains made from thick corobidian rings.
He stared back across the gulf. On the far side of the rickety bridge was a similar door. He teleported over there, brushed away a coating of slime. "What is this?" he muttered, considering the span, the doors, and the magically enchanted chain in one singular thought. Behind the slime covering, he discovered a similar ingress; it was also sealed with lead. However, there were no visible chains on this side.
Kian teleported back to the girl, who was fidgeting on the ledge and hugging herself in an attempt at staying warm. "Do you know what that door is up there?"
Unfortunately, he so startled Alexi that the girl almost jumped out of her skin. "A professor at my school told me that there used to be another way into the House of Zandine. They replaced it with that bridge about 50-years ago. You can see why; even from here it looks like it's about to fall."
"Alexi, what's say I get you out of here? In exchange for me having saved your life, I ask only that you mention me to no one. Can you do that for me?"
"Are you a criminal?" Alexi asked.
Kian thought about that for a minute. "The one that lives in that house might say I'm a criminal," he said. "But I'm just trying to save someone."
"Is the someone you're saving a criminal?" Alexi asked.
"Same answer? I'm not trying to be evasive, but yeah. So it's really important that no one know about me," Kian said. "Please, I want your promise. Just to be clear I'll save you anyway, but I'm asking for your trust."
"I won't say a word," Alexi said.
Kian hugged Alexi and then teleported them both to safety.
Chapter Forty-Three (which is also the conclusion of this part of the story) is now available to read at http://slckismet.blogspot.com/p/discussion-board-for.html under the label "The Orb of Winter" if you care to read ahead.
Are there any artists out there willing to draw some pics for my story? If so, please email me. There is an "Orb of Winter" map now in both the NEWS section of my website and in the FORUMS of my website.
If you go to my website directly from this posting, you will want to begin with "CHAPTER Seventeen."